


Going High

by stranger_thanfiction



Series: Stranger Things 30 Day Challenge [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Racism, because billy hargrove was ready to beat the shit out a thirteen year old because he was black, it's really just lucas dealing with max and billy's relationship, tw racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranger_thanfiction/pseuds/stranger_thanfiction
Summary: Lucas Sinclair is 100% certifiably avoiding his girlfriend’s step-brother, but not because he and Max are sneaking off every other Tuesday to make out in his room.Billy Hargrove would be okay with killing him for no other reason than he’s black, so Lucas isn’t about to give him another reason to go after him.





	Going High

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt from @hey-dingus was Favorite Kid, and boy, is Lucas Sinclair underappreciated. He's smart, quick with wit and reflexes, caring, loyal, and tough. I wish that his character was more explored in the series, so we could really get a glimpse of his perspective when it comes to his friends and the chaos that happens in Hawkins. 
> 
> I don't wanna say Billy being racist is kind of glossed over, but it's...definitely mentioned and then moved on from. In real life, Billy would say much worse things (such as, the n word which I refuse to write even in character because it's not okay). If Dustin is the Heart, Mike is the Brains, and Will is the Soul, then Lucas is the Body. He's willing to do anything and everything for his friends, but in my opinion, he's undervalued, and Billy ready to beat up a literal thirteen year old nerd because he's black is So Not Okay. (Also, were it not for the wrist rocket it would be a very different season.) 
> 
> Also, I just need to add the disclaimer that I am a big fan of Billy. I like seeing dark characters and he’s so complex that I can’t wait to explore him deeper using more words and freedom. I'm a big believer in redemption arcs, so I truly think he deserves a good story and good redemption arc. 
> 
> That being said, I think it’s very hard for anyone to get past someone is ready to harm you, let alone a traumatized thirteen year old. From Lucas’ perspective, this man could kill him if he gets too close. He dislikes him purely out of safety. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments work better than coffee as writing fuel. If you've questions or Opinions, feel free to come yell at me on my tumblr @modernfeminismtalking. Enjoy :)

Lucas Sinclair is 100% certifiably avoiding his girlfriend’s step-brother, but not because he and Max are sneaking off every other Tuesday to make out in his room.

Billy Hargrove has no qualms about smacking him around, for no other reason than his skin color, so Lucas isn’t about to give him another reason to go after him. 

Lucas decides early on that it's best to stay out of his way. 

For Lucas, it’s never about the fear of losing a fight. He’s kind of scrawny and weak-looking, but he can still fight from afar with his wrist rocket, enough to leave bruises. 

His dad tells him that when he starts putting on muscle he might even be considered for a sports team; Lucas, about as graceful as a baby deer walking in the woods, tells him he'll think about it. 

He’d much rather play on the Atari with Mike or D&D with Will than willingly run, but he’s not about to tell his former starting pitcher father that.

Even so, after the second time the gate opened earlier that year, Lucas decided to try and gain some muscle, if for no other reason than to be able to fight if something else happens. 

It’s June now, and it’s been months of nearly collapsing out of planks and heaving through runs, but Lucas finally has enough muscle to feel prepared if something happens. 

(Max liking to feel his arms when they...erm..make out is a plus.) 

So, yeah.

Lucas doesn’t have any concerns about holding his own in a fight against Billy Hargrove, if it would ever come to that. 

Generally, the older teen stays as far away from The Party as he possibly can, thanks to Max threatening to smash his junk to pieces if he ever comes near them, but Lucas can never be too careful. 

Billy Hargrove isn’t the first person to try and kill him because of his race and he won’t be the last. 

Lucas was ten when it first happened, riding his bike home from Mike’s after a paused campaign. His mind was swirling with game strategies, so he didn’t immediately notice the car creeping up behind him until the shouting began.

The two men in the car hurled insults at the young boy, screaming words his mom told him to never use and threatening to hurt him if they saw him on “their land” again. 

It was a public roadway; he knew he could be there. Maybe it had something to do with being close to someone’s property, so Lucas asked his father what that meant when they were both home later that night. 

James Sinclair looked up from his crossword, his mouth drawn into a harsh line, and asked his ten year old son why he needs to know about private and public land. Lucas told him. 

His father’s gaze grew harder as he spoke, and James is silent for a moment before grasping his son’s shoulder. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Lucas asked, eyes wide with worry. 

James’ eyes softened. 

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, you actually did the best thing you could’ve done there.” 

“Really?”

James nodded, dropping his hand.

“There’s gonna be people trying to get to you, get a rise out of you. There’s gonna be people trying to hurt you, trying to make you look bad, for no other reason than because they think you’re different.” 

He looked back down at Lucas, and had a proud smile on his face. 

“The thing is, they're right, you are different."

Lucas looked up at him. 

"You’re better. I raised you to be better. When they go low, we go high.” 

“They’ll do anything in their power to make you look wrong, to make you look guilty, and sometimes they’ll succeed.” 

“When they come for you, you stand your ground. It’s your honor on the line, and I can’t tell you to not fight, but you need to know that once you throw a punch, they’ll do anything and everything to make you wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter that they called you that word, it doesn’t matter that they’ve been stalking you and waiting to hurt you, it doesn’t matter that they’re the aggressors. The minute you fight back they’ll use your actions against you.” 

“I'm not telling you this to scare you; we live in a scary world."

Lucas snorts, and James pauses to raise an eyebrow before continuing. 

"It's even scarier to be a black person, and I want you to be safe. You’re becoming a man, and it’s my job to keep you smart, to keep you safe.”

Lucas was ten when his dad told him this, but it echoes through his brain every time he sees people give him a dirty look when he holds Max’s hand at the mall, or when he enters stores without the guys.

Luckily, Max doesn’t seem to care that he will only meet her outside the house or at a secondary location. Personally, he thinks she doesn’t want to be there, but he’d never tell her that. 

She’s broken up with him three times now, and it was all over stupid shit.

Lucas doesn’t want to think about them breaking up over something serious, like pushing on things that she doesn't want to talk about. 

Max has given hints that Neil Hargrove isn’t the most loving step-father, but even so, Billy is reason enough to stay away. 

Lucas never really considered Neil to be the problem until the night he accompanies Max home, her on her skateboard and Lucas on his bike. 

He’s never really gotten over Will disappearing, so he insists, despite her house being close.

Max, who was wary of the idea but conceded because no one else was supposed to be home, freezes when they reach the bottom of her street. 

He stops with her, and she looks over at him, fear in her eyes with a weak smile on her face. 

“This is where you can leave me, Stalker,” Max starts, looking down the street at the car parked in her driveway. 

He looks over her shoulder to see if the Camaro’s there, but he only sees the station wagon. 

“Are you sure? Billy’s not home. It should be fine for me to just head down with you.”

Max looks pained, but she continues to smile.

“I’ll be fine. Your bike couldn’t keep up with my board anyway,” she smirks. 

Lucas knows she’s trying to distract him, maybe goad him into a fight so she could make him leave, so he leaves. 

His eyes soften and he gives her a kiss on the cheek before he turns around. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Maxie?” he grins at her, laughing at her squawking behind him at the nickname.

“That’s worse than Maxine!” 

It all comes to a head when The Party (minus Dustin, who’s still at camp, and El, because there’s too many people at the pool) spends the hottest day of the month at the pool. 

Max walks out of the changing room in a bikini, and Lucas’ jaw drops.

El may be the sweetest girl on the planet, he’ll give her that, but Max is definitely _the hottest_. 

Lucas can’t keep his eyes off her, and he’s about to ask her to play a game of chicken when the lifeguards switch shifts. 

Billy, all full of the usual swagger and general shirtlessness, walks past the moms as if he’s hot shit, and Lucas nearly gags.

He gets out of the pool to sit by a sulking Mike, who’s mom forced him to come instead of spending the day tucked away making out with El, and Will, who’s waiting for his sunscreen to settle into his skin before jumping in. 

Lucas can’t relate. 

The three boys shoot the shit for a while, Mike giving unenthusiastic answers and Will thrilled to be talking about something other than the girls, until his girlfriend walks up to them, red curls dripping. 

“So, are you three old ladies gonna sit here and chatter, or are you gonna actually swim today?” she raises her eyebrows at them.

The three all look at each other at the challenge, before rushing up and pushing each other out of the way to reach the water. 

The water cools the end of June heat, and they end up having a breath holding competition before Max bets him he can’t do a cartwheel underwater. 

Never one to back down from a dare, he does it and emerges to see his girlfriend’s face right in front of him. 

He’s close enough that can count the freckles on her face if he tried, and was about to until he hears a shrill whistle. 

“NO PDA!” he hears yelled from the other end of the pool, and sure enough, Billy’s standing at the other end of the pool, whistle swinging across his chest and a pissy look on his face. 

Max simply flips him off and continues swimming, although this time she’s farther away from him.

Lucas doesn’t think anymore of it until he’s in the changing room, wiping himself off with a towel when he’s pushed against the lockers. 

Billy’s forearm is across his throat, threatening to choke him if he moves, and the older’s eyes are vicious.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from my sister, Sinclair,” he starts, spit hitting Lucas in the eye. 

Lucas raises his eyebrows, exterior calm but inwardly freaking out, and finds himself responding. His dad's words are echoing in his ears.

“You think I can tell her what to do, Billy? If I’m not around, she’d kick my ass.”

Billy huffs but doesn’t loosen his grip. 

“Yeah, well, cut that shit out when you're outside of your fucking club. Don’t let me catch you hanging around Max again, or I’ll rearrange your face.”

Billy lets go and stalks off, and Lucas takes a deep breath before quickly changing and meeting the rest of his friends outside. 

“You ready?” Max asks, her hair thrown up in a fiery bun and arms full of wet towels, and he nods before throwing an arm around her shoulder and tucking her into his side. 

Billy’s dead now, and Lucas can’t find it in his heart to truly be sad, but he’s there for Max as she grieves. 

It’s hard to grieve someone who made your life hell; it’s even harder to grieve someone who made your life hell, then spends the last minutes of his life saving your best friend, and subsequently, the world. 

It’s confusing, for everyone, but for Max the most. Lucas wishes he could give her clarity or comfort, but the best he can do is hold her hand while she cries. 

El is grieving Hopper, they all are, but she still manages to be more helpful than Lucas.

He walks into El’s room the day after the funeral, to find Max sobbing into El’s shoulder.

Lucas wants to go say something, anything comforting, but one sad look from the telekinetic girl has him turning on his heel back to the boys. 

Max pleads for him to not stand next to her at the funeral, and Lucas acquiesces. He doesn’t understand why, but it all became clear when he notices Neil glaring at the Sinclair family, the only black family there, at the funeral of his son. 

Oh. 

It’s weeks after he notices before he finally brings it up to her.

Max tries to evade the question like before, but this time he’s not budging. 

She begins to tear up as she tells him what Neil says, what Billy learned from Neil, and his hands itch to comfort her. 

When she finishes, head tilted down and hands furiously wiping at her eyes, Lucas grabs her hands and envelops them in his own. 

“Mad Max,” he starts, and she softly chuckles, “I don’t care if your dad’s the biggest asshole. I get it if you don’t want me to stick around, but I like you.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off. 

“I like you even though you broke up with me five times. I like you even though you kick my ass at Atari. I like you even when you tell me I’m stupid or a loser, and I’ll keep coming back to you because that’s how much I like you.” 

Max looks at him warily. 

“Neil will kill you if he finds out that you’re my boyfriend.”

Lucas gives a resigned face back to her.

“I’ve survived monsters, a fire, a government conspiracy, and that time my momma beat my ass as a kid for showing up after curfew. It’s kinda established that I’m hard to get rid of,” he grins back at her.

“For the record, I like you too, Moron, a lot.” 

He smiles and waggles his eyebrows.

“Of course you do! No one can resist these guns,” he flexes his muscles, and in return receives the biggest laugh from his girlfriend since before the Battle of Starcourt.

For him, that’s a win, racists be damned.


End file.
